


Anticipation

by pxincessofcolor



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, westallen - Freeform, westallen smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 02:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15160163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxincessofcolor/pseuds/pxincessofcolor
Summary: Iris and Barry haven't had any alone time since being bombarded with more news, after defeating The Thinker--their almost fully adult daughter showing up on Joe's doorstep. The loss of intimacy is quickly taking a toll on both of them. Most especially Iris, and she turns to her tried and true fashion for relief from her Flash/Barry fantasies.





	Anticipation

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know it took me a long, long, long ass time to post again, but I was busy with school. Plus I needed the motivation to write. I want to dedicate this fic to @katsopwlis on twitter. She always inspires me to keep writing, hone my craft, and well, that I actually have one. Thanks and love. Please feel free to leave a comment or kudos. Until the next fic.

Iris feels she is going to lose her mind. She lays back on the bed, the same bed her and Barry share. Or used to. I mean yes, they sleep together, but they don’t sleep together. He hasn’t touched her, not since Nora showed up. I mean, yes, he’s kissed her: a quick peck on the lips but nothing serious, nothing like the deep passionate kisses they have when they’re alone, the kisses that are so intense that they have to break apart to stop themselves from suffocating. It wasn’t anything that made her breath catch and all the air suck out of her body. Nothing like he used to do. But they both agreed that this was best, even if it was completely uncomfortable at times.

_Her two hands rise up into his hair, messing it up slightly. This is their first time alone since their daughter showed up at her dad’s door. Trying to get and understand her full story, get over the shock, work on trying to get her home, and failing, work more, and fail again, and then feel that same crushing sense of doom starting to cascade over the room like it’s done with both The Thinker and Savitar, there’s been no time for “Barry and Iris” time. It was only work. A small shiver, not the good kind, goes up her spine at the thought of the fact that she has--or will have rather--a daughter one day; yeah, they planned on having kids, but to see your child before they were ever fully set in your mind? While it seems that she’s far, far, far off from being “made”, Iris still remembers sex ed, both from her gym teacher who was more focused on a winning a championship than making them focus on the six videos they were forced to watch as well as her father’s awkward father/daughter conversation she was forced to partake in at 14, as well as how fragile time and it’s linear but easily change trajectory is. Barry pulls away. She knew he sensed what she was thinking or feeling. Hell, she sensed it from him too.  
“We should stop.” He placed his white hand over hers, reassuring her. It’s not a rejection of “I don’t want to” but “we actually shouldn’t”. She didn’t need the reminder; she already knows what he’s thinking because she was thinking too and he even sensed it from her. God, she hated how well she knew him. And worse, how well he knew her. Damn them both. _

_“Barry,” she cups his face more, “we’ve been...careful all of this time. This isn’t different.” He does that thing where he rubs her wrists and arms. If his objective is to not turn her on more then he’s highly failing but she won’t tell him that because she can see how deeply concerned he is. His lips are thin line._

_“Iris, trust me, I’ve told you. Timelines...are delicate things and aren’t cut and dry. Even just meeting No-Nora,” he still chokes up on her name because all he think of his mother and she knows it, “can have--and probably did have--effects on the future we don’t know about.” He kisses her forehead. “Plus, knowing that she exists, can affect just how ‘safe’ we are…” She moved into him, holding him and his arms wrapped around her tightly._

_“Mr. Allen, are you suggesting that because we know that we have a daughter we’d be less inclined to practice safe sex and bring her about earlier than expected?” she tries to keep a joking lilt to her voice but she honestly questioned the same thing. Sure, they’ve been caught up in the moment before, and of course, a few times, shit happened. But she was also on birth control currently as a backup measure in case they didn’t always grab a condom (or weren’t near any). She took it consistently. But there still stood the fact that modern medicine failed sometimes, and what was that quote from Jurassic Park: “Life, uh, finds a way.”._

_“I’m sorry. I just...I worry. I know that it’s probably fine. Nothing should happen but there’s the thought. All the variables of what could go wrong.,.” he briefly pauses. “I’m almost second guessing every move I make because I don’t know much it’ll change things.” Barry looks down at Iris and they stare at one another briefly, completely silent._

_“Barry, I think the only we can improve on what we already do is if you wear a hefy bag and I wrap myself in bubble wrap, and not that I know from experience, but that doesn’t sound all that sexy.” His smile widened, the small laugh lines by his eyes showing. She rested her head against his chest and felt how fast his heart beat. She knew that it was beating 10x as fast a normal person’s but it felt normal to her. It reminded her a hummingbird. “But I understand what you mean. We can put our...sex life...on the back burner until we get this figured out and we know we won’t further cause anything detrimental.” She smiled and they kissed._

_“Thank you for understanding. I know that it seems like a lot but--”_

_“But it isn’t. This relationship is both of us. And I wouldn’t want either one of us to be made to feel uncomfortable or forced into a situation we didn’t want to be in just because ‘we’re married and that’s what married people do’. We’re still us at the end of it.”_

That was four months ago, Nora is still nowhere near home, and Iris is starting to feel the lost intimacy of not having the skin to skin contact with him. While she obviously enjoys the pleasure of having sex with Barry, she also misses the intimacy. She misses the versatility: the switch from making love, having sex, fucking. She misses laying on his chest afterward and listening to his heartbreak and his chest rise and fall. She misses that moment of just “them” in the late nights or early mornings. She’s honestly edge. And even though he won’t admit it, Barry is too. She can sense it. There’s an unknowing thing about couples where they can sense what the other is feeling, and they’re both definitely feeling it from it each other. 

This is longest they’ve gone since they’ve “held out” since being active with each other, and both of them were slowly, slowly losing it. One of the few saving graces was the shower head that vibrated in their bathroom; the few times she would get some time to herself, she would let her hands explore her body, pretending her hands were his. She briefly remembers the few times in college where she needed personal relief, and right before she would come against her hand, Barry’s face would appear in head (sometimes soaked in sweat and hair messy or between her legs smirking). The reality was much better than the fantasy, and both didn’t help Iris’ current situation. In fact, it just made it much worse. She crossed her legs. She was wearing her bathroom and underwear; she hadn’t dressed yet. Barry was downstairs; he’s gone back to speed dressing again from them showering and dressing together. Which adds to her theory of how much this is affecting him as much as it her. They still sleep in the bed but there is a palpable, unspoken energy between them. She can hear a small amounts of clanking so, she knows he’s cooking breakfast. 

Iris feels the need again and she knows now is the best time to act on that feeling because she won’t know when she’ll find “alone time” for herself again where she won’t feel like she’s affecting him or make him feel hurt because she needed the relief. While it wasn’t insult and her and Barry were no strangers to masturbation--or even mutual masturbation, it still feels somewhat like an insult and betrayal to get off where he can hear her or worse, see her. Her hands move slowly down her chest, stomach, thighs, before moving back over underwear. She should probably just go for it; but she wants to work herself more. She wants to throw herself into the idea that this is foreplay-- _their foreplay_ \--and tease herself the way _he_ would tease her. Play with her sensitive skin, nipples, gripping, touching, but nothing serious until he sensed she couldn’t take anymore. Her hand moves over her bra, rubbing and touching until she can feel her nipples poke roughly against the lace. She wants to move the bra down and start pinching each one but not yet. She has to wait. Like he would. Her hands move down her sternum and she rubs her thighs. Her hands are much softer than his rough ones but she still moves them. She can feel the wet spot forming in the panties of her underwear. She then moves there rubbing herself on the outside of her underwear, poking and prodding against the wet spot, causing its size to increase. As much as she wants to finish herself off and sure she’d see fireworks and be satisfied, she’s teasing herself more. She moves up to her bra, pulling it down enough that her breasts spill over it. 

Her nipples are hard and she give each one a brief pinch then rub. It feels nice, enough to get her there. She tries to think of it as Barry’s teeth then tongue and mouth going over it. The first time he did that she almost came right there.  
_“Where in the fuck did you learn how to do that?” Iris half gasps, half incredulous as she moved up into his mouth. The bastard is smirking, and yes, he is a bastard. She always emphasizes the importance of foreplay to her friends, and apparently, Barry took it more seriously than she did because, of course, he did. She is dripping to the point that she could literally feel how cool and wet her underwear were._

_“Avid reader,” he replies as his tongue encircled the other nipple. His finger slips lower and starts to play the wet spot teasingly. He strikes against the area slowly or quickly, in quick succession before pulling away. Iris finally understands what some people meant by the fact that they thought they were going die. This man is going to kill her. But holy shit, it was going to be worth it._

_Iris’ toes curl as she continues to play with her nipples. They’re hard and more distend upward. She lets her hand move southward and delve into her underwear. She immediately covers her mouth when her finger touches her clit to smother the moan that was about to escape. She lets herself go back into the memory of having sex with her husband. She’ll investigate later if it’s considered narcissistic to masturbate to a memory of yourself having sex. Right now, she can feel an orgasm and that’s the only thing on her mind._

_She grabs the bed sheet and is half afraid she’ll rip it and half uncaring. “You’re just being unfair now.” Barry pulls her black thong to the side and slides in his forefinger and third finger inside with ease and slides out slowly. He slides them back in, making sure to curl them upward this time, and her body jerks up into his. He seizes the moment and wraps the free arm he hand around her waist, locking her in place. He moves his hand at differing paces before adding his thumb to rub against her clit. Her head falls back, and allows herself to basically become his to use. Her body refuses to cooperate with her anymore. And even as she tries to stave off the orgasm, it seems his countermeasures to bring it are twice as strong. She’s shaking and swearing before she can fully comprehend the rest of the sensations around her._

Iris is slowly playing with herself, lost in the feeling. She bites her lip to quiet herself. She moves her finger faster then slowly then faster then slowly. She tries to mimic the techniques that’s been used on her--with her. If she were to think of her body as instrument, Barry Allen would be proficient. He knows how to make her come faster than she can on her own. Again, something else to investigate once she’s done. 

_Iris is completely on display for Barry. She’s panting and sweat is covering her chest. He’s not completely clothed but he’s more covered than she is. She’s about to make a comment about her nakedness to his non-nakedness but his tongue slides down her chest, kissing her inner thigh. She remembers kissing him and tasting herself. She knows he’s undoing his belt and dropping his pants and underwear based on the sounds she hears. Her eyes closed enjoying his kisses against her thigh. She hears the drawer by her head open: condom. The package is torn open and given that she feels Barry move back up her body, he’s sheathed himself in it. He kisses her lips and she wraps her arms around his neck. Her thumbs graze over his cheeks. He grabs the headboard as he slides inside, a small curse escaping his lips. He begins to move slowly, taking his time, and Iris doesn’t rush him, yet. They’re connected, and they’re both in that place of wanting to reach ecstasy while wanting to stay like this forever: constant wave after wave of intense pleasure washing over them. Her legs moved up his back and he stroked deeply. “Please faster.” She needed more from him. Everything. He was holding back for her. She knew him well enough to know. “You won’t break me.” He increases his pace, slamming against her pelvis. He moved an arm underneath her, holding her place while he raised her slightly. He moves so relentlessly that an outsider would think that the face she wore was screwed up in pain, not in being closest to one of the most intense orgasms of her life. Iris reached down between them and begins to rub herself as she chants his name. She’s sure that her neighbors can hear them surely now, but she doesn’t care. Her orgasm moves through her and she almost seizes. Her legs and toes straighten and shake as “oh fuck” repeatedly falls from her mouth like a repeated apology. Barry’s is shortly after her, and she literally feels how hard he comes into the condom. He rolls, taking her with him, letting her be on top. He still hasn’t moved and neither has she. They just bask in everything they did._

Iris is moving two fingers inside of herself with high speed. She’s so caught up that she’s forgotten to hide her moaning. She’s going to come soon, if not for harsh wet sounds coming from her body, then feeling the harsh knot building in her stomach. She plays with her clit with her other hand and keeps going and going and going. She keeps herself in the memory. Her entire body surges forward and off the bed. She closes her eyes and catches her breath. 

She doesn’t notice Barry standing there with a kitchen towel draped over his shoulder and smirking. _Fuck._ “Uhh…” She covers herself with the bathrobe, not bothering to rearrange her underwear. 

“I kind of heard you screaming my name and thought something was wrong. Imagine my surprise.” He smirks. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself so, I didn’t want to stop you.”

_Well, shit._ “Please don’t take anything by it. I just really, really…” 

 

“Needed to get off,” he finishes. “Trust me, I understand. I’ve been...giving myself a little ‘self love’ myself.” 

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m not taking you seriously, or I don’t understand the ramifications of what you could happen--or even couldn’t happen.” She pauses. “I value you and your feelings, and I don’t want you to think I’m diminishing that.” 

He leans up against the door frame. “I don’t think you are,” he replies honestly. He moves more into the room, nearing her. “But want to know what I do think?”

“What?” she replies softly. 

“To hell with it all.” He leans closer to her, his hands on each side of her. “I think we should just take your advice from before.” 

“My advice from before?” 

“Relax…” he mimics. “Whatever happens is going to happen, we can’t control life and what it throws at us, even when we try to. We just have to be ready for whatever comes our way. Look at everything we’ve faced.” He cups her face as he climbs on the bed. “Iris, the future is probably going to change no matter what we do, especially since we haven’t gotten Nora back yet. And while that should make us want to inspect our present, I realized that doesn’t mean we should change every aspect of it.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Extremely.” They both share a laugh. “Now as far as getting back to where you just were…” He moves on top of her, kissing her. Deeply. He moves the bathrobe out of the way, exposing her again. 

“I love you,” she says. It seems out of the blue but she felt that she needed to say it. “And I want you know that whatever it is, we’re in it together. Your struggle is my struggle. Your pain is my pain.” 

“And we are The Flash.” 

She gives a wry smile. “And we are The Flash.” She kisses him. “I love you so much.” 

“I know, and trust me when I say that you’re really, really about to love me.” His eyebrows moves in a teasing manner.

“Smartass.”


End file.
